in the beginning, was just noise, bright lights, and applause that echoed in kwon jiyong's ears. he was young and had the whole world at his feet. go on stage with bigbang, eliciting hysterical screams from girls who didn't even really know him, but already swearing eternal love. he knew how to play with it, knew that power was addictive. had pride, ego, and a rebellious charm that no one could control. he didn't want ties, he didn't want roots. just quick nights, easy laughs, and temporary bodies.

‘till he met...

you.

it wasn't cinematic. there’s no background music, no dramatic lighting. was at a party in seoul, in the stuffy corner of an apartment too expensive for someone who smelled youth. she wasn't trying to attract attention. was the opposite: leaning against the wall, you seemed to want to disappear. and was this kinda detail that caught jiyong's attention. amidst so many begging for his gaze, you were the only one who didn't seem to care about anything — you were precisely the one he chose.

"you don't seem having fun," — he said that day, appearing out of nowhere beside you.

you arched your eyebrow in surprise. — "and you seem to have fun all the time?"

he let out a short laugh. was rare for someone to return it so quickly. was enough for him to decide he wanted to test his limits.

ot didn't take long. that same night, they went out together. you didn't beg for anything, you weren't a fan wanting an autograph or a photo. and that messed with his ego in a strange way.

at first, he kept telling himself: "it's just a thing. just one more." and maybe he really believed it. he called you when was bored, when wanted company, when he needed to silence the loneliness that came after the show. you came.

you didn't ask questions, you didn't create expectations, you didn't demand promises. and that made everything too easy.

but things started to change.

he noticed little details. how you laughed casually when he made a lame comment. how you stood in his kitchen in a baggy t-shirt, checking your phone without asking for permission, as if you were already part of that space. how your scent clung to the sheets even after days.

jiyong caught himself thinking about you at random moments. in studio, your image cross his mind for no reason. qnd when he’s alone, in the darkness of his room, she was the one who popped into his head first.

it scared him.

he was 21 years old, 1 year older than you. millions of eyes on him, and he couldn't allow himself to be vulnerable for a girl. in his logic, attachment was weakness. attachment was a trap. so, instead of giving in, he started protecting himself in the worst way possible: being a jerk.

the changes were subtle at first. he only called you when wanted sex. stopped sending you funny texts in the middle of day. and then, it got worse.

sometimes, after sleeping with you, he get up immediately, leaving you alone in the apartment, feeling like you were just another in line.

and in that night, after a show, he called you again. he was exhausted, full of pent-up adrenaline and an almost desperate need to feel something familiar. you had sex quickly, intensely, without much conversation. when he finished, he got up from the bed without looking at you. lit a cigarette, and sat on the edge, inhaling in silence. the smoke filled the room, and the silence was heavy. you, lying still naked, waited for anything to prove he didn't see you as just a body. but nothing came. only his voice, cold.

— "you should go."

was like a silent stab.

and he didn't turn around. continued to smoke his cigarette, looking at the floor, feigning indifference. inside, he was in chaos. he wanted to hold her, ask her to stay, admit that she had already taken up too much space inside him. but pride was greater. the fear was greater. and he chose to be cruel.